


The Beating of the Drums

by Herwhereabouts



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herwhereabouts/pseuds/Herwhereabouts
Summary: Since Jace cared little for others - his sister was a useful tool at times but an inconvenience now - and cared only about wielding power and ruling his people with absolute authority, it surprised none that he was lacking a heart. His father did have it cut out from him - the offending instrument - and Jace’s chest sealed with ancient magic when he was a boy, after all.





	The Beating of the Drums

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to finish up a Sherdario fic on here but that muse is long dead now and I am in the midst of preparing the eulogy for it. 
> 
> Instead, the effort I was trying to put into finishing up the RPF fic went into this AU Jalec magical realism period piece, which has been mercurial in the way that it has taken shape and formed in my head. Glad to get it out there!
> 
> There are elements taken from various fandoms in this AU - Harry Potter and PoTC to name the two obvious ones. 
> 
> Everything written here is all fake, all for fun, no harm intended, etc. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it. It was fun to write! :)

******************

Jace watched Alec throw himself at one unsuspecting victim to another with mild curiosity and more than a little distaste. Alec’s wanton shamelessness and inebriation made a comical sight at the ceremonial feast. The newly appointed King of Idris cavorting around like a common whore during the anniversary of his father’s death the year prior did not make for new gossip in the castle, after the Lightwoods had won the war.

There was no satisfaction to be gained from the public display of idiocy, though. Jace found little to be entertaining in the household of the Lightwoods. They were a dry, broken bunch, prone to excessive bouts of feeling and emotion, and altogether unfit to bear a crown and rule a kingdom. 

To think that Valentine’s kingdom fell - his father’s glory and legacy - to such a band of merrily dimwitted fools, who ruled with their hearts instead of their heads, ran like black, acrid venom through his veins. 

With a quick impish smile gracing his otherwise hardened features, Jace lightly raised his drink in a toast as Alec made towards him with a heavy gait and clear displeasure written in his countenance, ire apparent in the way his eyebrows were drawn together. 

Alec came close enough to brush up against him, his lips curling down in the manner of one smelling something distinctly unpleasant. Jace’s smile stayed fixed as he raised his goblet and took another sip of his wine, knuckles brushing against Alec’s chest. Sharp eyes narrowed and Alec grabbed him none too gently by the wrist and marched him out of the lively grand dining hall and into a secluded and private alcove. Jace went along quietly and passively. 

As far as their guests were concerned now, Jace had been verily tamed by the new King. His evil ways and past deeds - the deeds of his father, Valentine, mainly - had been buried and burned from their historical scrolls already, their memories wiped clean and pristine, even as they still mourned their countless dead and raged over the injustices in secret. 

Jace had unified the kingdoms of the Lightwoods and Morgensterns, and was now married. Still a King in name and title himself, even though his sister Clarissa had been ruling since the negotiations had begun and peace had uneasily descended once the ashes and the dust had settled two months ago. 

The only way to ensure Jace’s defeat - while he was unconscious and still healing from the Warlock’s last furious bid at his life - was to bind Jace to Alec with an unbreakable vow spell, the most powerful spell in the world. Since his sister was an especially clever girl, the terms of the spell were set in this way: were Jace to ever disobey and commit any act of treason and disloyalty that would jeopardize the unification of both kingdoms, he and his sister would fall dead and his kingdom would be razed to the ground. 

Since Jace cared little for others - his sister was a useful tool at times but an inconvenience now - and cared only about wielding power and ruling his people with absolute authority, it surprised none that he was lacking a heart. His father did have it cut out from him - the offending instrument - and Jace’s chest sealed with ancient magic when he was a boy, after all. 

A very pact with the Devil himself had been made for the exchange, his father had said, and Jace had believed him. Valentine would have done anything to remove all possible weaknesses from within his only son and the true heir to his throne. It had worked. Jace was bred into the best soldier, into a warrior who was not only unmatched and merciless in combat, but also as a diplomat. Completely devoid of all feeling and human affections, his negotiation tactics made even his most loyal advisors wary and avoidant of all dissidence. 

No mortal would ever understand the lengths that Jace would go to in order to rule over a vast, legendary empire and bring his dominion down upon all of the neighboring kingdoms. That is what he had been built for. He was the perfect King. 

His father’s plan had been to bring Idris under his control at all costs, and then take over the three remaining weaker kingdoms on the Western side in order to solidify his stronghold. It had almost worked. 

Alec dropped his arm with some haste as soon as they were out of sight and hidden away in the shadows, and looked for all the world as though he had gotten burned from that simple contact alone. Jace felt some satisfaction at that display.

With a great deal of hostility, Alec said, “Tonight you’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms. You are not to disturb me.” His tone was final and brooked no argument. 

Jace looked down at the goblet in his gloved hand and idly caressed the fine groves interwoven through the design. A moment later, he laughed lightly but the sound was all wrong, almost wooden and empty of any mirth. An affectation. “I see that you finally took notice of Lord Terser’s daughter tonight. That is one willing body that you have yet to spill your seed in. You’re running through your people with your cock at an alarming rate.” Jace demurely glanced up from beneath his eyelashes, the utter picture of perfect innocence, and found Alec frozen in place and soundlessly grasping for the words fit to properly articulate the newer ways in which he wished to kill Jace. He seemed catatonic. 

Seconds later, with words failing him, Alec knocked Jace’s drink from out of his hand and slammed him bodily into the wall behind him. Jace’s breath caught on an inhale but otherwise he did not react outwardly with much else, face a mask of nothingness. That angered Alec in a way that was entirely intolerable, Jace knew. 

“All you have done is bring pain and misery and death into my life,” Alec bit out brokenly and harshly, breath hot on Jace’s face, “and every day I forget more and more why I should not kill you and damn your kingdom and your sister both to hell. _Monster._ ” Alec’s grip was purposefully bruising on his shoulders and Jace ached with the weight of him pushing him down and against the cold stone castle wall. Alec was a big oaf of a man, lacking all grace and dexterity, a glorified child-king - a wavering storm with no direction, no imagination. Artless. 

Jace rolled his eyes somewhat primly at his theatrical display and tutted. “Is this about your paramour again? The Warlock?” That earned him an enraged shout of “Don’t!” as Alec slammed his palm against the wall, at level with Jace’s head - foregoing any illusion of civility entirely. 

It was startling to think that the King of Idris was unfamiliar with the horrors and the realities of war. That he had not anticipated some of the casualties to be his loved ones, his soldiers - his people. 

During the final battle, Jace’s falcon had transformed mid-flight into a great, deadly fire-breathing beast of a dragon and had set a quarter of Alec’s men alight within little time. 

Magnus, the Warlock, who was one of the only reasons that the war had tipped in the Lightwoods’ favor slightly, had found himself distracted with the beast, and when Jace saw the opening, he dashed forward and plunged his sword clean through the Warlock’s chest. This very outcome was what Jace had strategized with his men in their tents the night before. 

However, he had not anticipated for the Warlock to turn around and blast him with magic before he fell to the ground, dead. Jace cannot recall what occurred afterwards, but he woke up a couple of days later with his left arm bound to his chest, bruises too numerous to count, and an unbreakable vow hanging over his head as good as a death sentence. 

Jace sighed noisily and cast his eyes up at Alec’s face, and at the naked hatred and fire burning within his gaze. Alec wanted him dead, Alec wanted peace, and Alec also wanted to live in a fairy tale. 

“You are such a darling,” Jace crooned, daring to run a hand down Alec's chest, almost affectionately. “Is that why you are bedding only women? Not to sully his good memory? To punish yourself?” Jace continued lowering his hand further until he came to a stop on Alec's lower belly. Alec flinched slightly but was otherwise frozen in place. “You're such a martyr.” At Jace’s final words, Alec broke free from his stupor and recoiled back. The disgust and disbelief on his face quite evident. 

“You're poison, you stay away from me,” Alec snarled with some difficulty, his voice almost heavy with fresh grief. “I despise you.” His eyes had hardened into narrowed slits as he backed away from Jace with the slow, methodical steps of someone who was trying to back away from the presence of a wild animal. A moment later, he was out of sight and Jace was left alone again with his problem. 

Jace was good at solving problems. Life to him was a chessboard and everyone was a piece on it. He had to figure out a way get close to Alec and his inner circle members without appearing to be suspicious. He just needed more information about the nature of the spell that his conniving sister had cast upon him so he could strategize from there. So far, all of his instincts told him to start with Isabelle’s lovesick companion, Simon. He looked like he needed a friend. It would all be rather innocent. Gathering information certainly did not qualify him with immediate death. 

With this thought taking shape in his head, Jace pulled away from the wall and looked at the ground where his wine had spilled. Pity. 

As he was making his way back to the guests, Jace was seized with a pain so terrible that he fell to his knees. His vision swam before his very eyes and his breathing became ragged. Ever since he had regained consciousness after that bastard of a warlock had hit him with his spell, he felt powerful, angry pains igniting throughout his entire being every now and then. 

The fool must have cursed him before he’d died, but with what, Jace did not know. The only person he could ask for a diagnosis was his sister, and he would rather not reveal his predicament and make himself further vulnerable to their treacherous plans. 

Deeply breathing through the last remaining seconds of the attack, Jace slowly made his way to his feet, one hand cautiously pressing against his chest. He thought for a very brief moment that he felt movement, a dull heartbeat press against the palm of his hand, but it was simply his imagination. It was impossible. There really was no way. 

After all, Valentine said that the Devil had eaten Jace’s heart as compensation a long time ago.


End file.
